Reconstruction
by ANARCHY RULES
Summary: Four years after the fight against the First Evil, the gang has all gone their separate ways. Bitter and angry over the death of Anya, Xander has left the supernatural world behind for good. But like Slayers, old habits don't die easy. When Buffy shows up on his doorstep and says that she's putting the team back together to face a new threat, there is only one thing he can say...
1. No Place Like New York, New York

**Chapter One: No Place Like New York, New York**

 _ **The man in black fell like a stone and landed like a feather, never losing sight of his prey.**_

 **2007**

 **1:14 a.m.**

Johnny had been doing the vampire thing for twelve years now and every night still felt like his first. He revelled in the energy that rushed through his body as he moved in for the kill and he luxuriated in the sensation and taste of blood. It was better than sex, more addictive than crack and damn cheaper than both.

He'd spent the past decade on his act and he figured that he had worked out all of the kinks; go to some sleazy bar, find a desperate or lonely looking girl, put a few drinks in her, all the while hanging on her every word like his life depended on it and once she'd reached the bottom of her fifth or sixth drink he'd then say that it was getting a little crowded and that maybe they should go someplace a little more _intimate_. Four out of five times, they'd say yes. As for the fifth that would say no they would soon discover that their consent was neither requested nor required as at the bottom of that fifth or sixth drink there would always be a little surprise mixed in that would suddenly make his idea seem like the best thing ever and she would soon enthusiastically be following him outside.

That's what he's been doing for the past ten years and it had always worked without failure… until tonight that is.

The roofie wasn't working as well as usual, tonight's girl was actually still aware enough to try struggling when she saw his game face. With hindsight, that was a hint that maybe, just _maybe_ tonight might have been better if he'd just stayed in and watched Super Nanny reruns.

The second thing to go wrong was that some guy felt like playing the hero and cutting in.

The final sign that things were about to go wrong was that this gate crasher was wearing a mask with only one eyehole.

 **~o~O~o~**

 _ **CNN**_

 **MASKED VIGILATE STRIKES AGAIN**

 _PRESENTER TALKING_

"For the third time in the past two weeks, there has been a sighting of the black clad vigilante, this time near Broadway. Katherine Park 29, described to us a horrific account of two women attempting to assault her in the early hours of the morning."

 _CUT TO KATHERINE PARK TALKING WITH THE ON SEEN REPORTER_

"It was horrible," she says, not looking at the camera, "They were wearing these demon mask with yellow eye contacts and they bit me." She gesture to the shallow looking bite on the side of her neck. "The detective I spoke to says that they were probably on PCP or something like that which explains how they were acting but they just kept laughing every time I screamed. I thought that this was it, I really, truly believed that I was going to die and then he showed up."

 _BRIEFLY CUT TO A COMPOSITE SKETCH OF THE VIGILANTE. HE WEARS A LONG SLEEVE BLACK SHIRT AND LONG BLACK PANTS. COVERING THE TOP OF HIS FACE IS A BANDANA MASK WITH A KNOT TIED AT THE BACK OF HIS HEAD BUT THERE IS ONLY ONE EYEHOLE INSTEAD OF TWO. THERE IS HEAVY STUBBLE ON HIS JAW._

 _CUT BACK TO KATHERINE PARK._

"He pulled them off me and yelled at me to run," she says, "At first, I didn't do anything, I was too scared but he screamed at me again and this time I kept running until I found a patrolling officer. He saved my life."

 _CUT BACK TO PRESENTER_

"CCTV briefly caught a glimpse of a man in black fleeing the scene and the officers on scene have revealed that they were able to recover a sample of blood but they do not currently know whether it belongs to the vigilante or the assailants as it is not a match for anything that they currently have on file.

"They have also asked anyone with information about either the assailants or this man to come forward and arrest warrants have been put out for both parties.

" _The New York Times_ recently dubbed this vigilante The Mask."

 **~o~O~o~**

Johnny had dragged the girl into Central Park where, hopefully, there would be no witnesses. As he looked around, he realised that they were standing on the Bethesda Terrace, overlooking the fountain. He grinned as he thought of all of the movies and TV shows that had filmed where he was standing. He then grazed the girl's neck with his teeth, barely breaking the skin. The girl struggled against him despite the drug that was currently running through her system. She was strong. It would almost be a shame to kill her.

For the briefest moment, he actually considered turning her, granting her immorality and the bloodlust that accompanied it but… _nah,_ he was hungry. Anyway, given the noise she was making, it was becoming more and more likely that someone would come to see what was going on so he would have to kill her quickly. He would have to kill her now.

"Spare some change?"

" _Really?_ " Johnny asked in irritation, his vampire face melting away, "Can't a man murder in peace?" He turned to face the intruder and saw a man with an outstretched hand. "Beat it, ya tramp," he growled before turning back to the still struggling girl.

"Wow, you are truly dedicated to eating," said the man, "Most people notice the mask and crack a joke about superheroes or… you know… notice the mask. I know it's dark and everything but _come on!_ " Johnny immediately turned back to the man the second he heard the word "mask" pass his lips.

" _You!_ " he hissed with fury, not even noticing the girl slipping free of his grasp and running away from him, screaming. The man, no, The _Mask_ smiled.

"Me," he said softly, "It's always nice to be recognised."

"You're a dead man," Johnny promised, once again vamping out and snarling.

"I'd be more scared if you weren't like the third or fourth guy to say to me this week," he said nonchalantly. With a wordless scream of rage, the vampire charged at the man in back but before he could even take three steps he had collapsed onto the stone floor, wildly convulsing. "Taser," said The Mask by way of explanation, "It's amazing what you can get on _eBay_ these days." Howling in pain, Johnny tore the cables out of his chest.

"If this was a fair fight, you'd already be _dead,_ " he growled, waiting for his vampire regenerative abilities to kick in so he could climb to his feet and _painfully_ end this bastard.

"Well then I'm definitely not going to fight fair," said The Mask, "Besides, you're a vampire, I'm a human, any notion of a fair fight went out the window the second you gave up tanning." He tossed the stun gun to the ground before reaching into his pocket and producing (of all things) a water pistol.

"You're kidding me," Johnny deadpanned.

"Not at all," The Mask replied before squeezing the trigger. Johnny howled as soon as he realised that he was being sprayed with holy water.

Feeding was definitely out of the question, painfully killing this psychopath was also now out of the question. At this point, Johnny would settle for just surviving but he knew that he couldn't just turn away and run. Given the two attacks that he had just experienced, along with the confirmation that The Mask was a normal human with no magical abilities, it was highly likely that he had another ranged weapon. His only chance would be to do something unexpected.

So instead of running _away_ from his attacker, he leapt to his feet and charged _towards_ him, pushing him to the ground and leaping off the Terrace and sprinted towards the Fountain. Only momentarily surprised by the boldness of the move, The Mask climbed to his feet and leapt off the terrace in pursuit. The man in black fell like a stone and landed like a feather, never losing sight of his prey, charging with single minded determination. As Johnny was still weakened from both the stun gun and the holy water, The Mask was easily able to catch up to him, tackling him into the Fountain, soaking them both. Johnny slugged his opponent hard in the face before putting all of his weight on the other man, forcing his head underneath the water. The Mask struggled for a few seconds before changing tactics and elbowing the vampire in the groin, causing him to let go. Johnny briefly keeled over in pain before righting himself when he found himself staring down the barrel of a gun. The kind that _didn't_ squirt water. He laughed.

"A gun? _Really?_ " he asked, not even trying to hide the scorn in his voice, "Bullets can't kill me you _moron._ " The Mask smiled, or rather, he showed his teeth and lowered the gun so it was no longer pointing at Johnny's face.

"They can if they're made out of wood," he said quietly before pulling the trigger. Johnny had just enough time to go " _Huh?_ " before being reduced to nothing more than some dusty water as the wooden bullet tore through his heart. The Mask climbed out of the fountain and collapsed, rolling over so he was now lying on his back. He laid there for a few seconds, just breathing.

"You look like you had fun," said a voice from behind him. The Mask forced his weary body to rise to his feet before immediately freezing in his place.

He knew that voice.

"How did you find me?" he asked, not turning around.

"Well," came the reply, "It's not exactly like you were hiding. I mean, _come on_ , a one eyed man saving people from vampires. It wasn't difficult to figure it out. Although, if you're curious, it was actually Dawn that told us about the first story. _The Mask._ I like it. Nice, simple, single syllable words. Hey, it's catchy."

"I didn't pick the name," he said with the merest _hint_ of defensiveness in his voice, "It just stuck." With a sigh, he finally turned around to face the source of the voice. With her blonde hair, green eyes and a figure that just _dared_ the imagination, Buffy Summers had not changed a bit since he had last seen her. She smiled (somewhat sarcastically) at him.

"Take off the mask," she said simply, "We both know who you are so it's not like it's actually serving any purpose at this point." He chuckled darkly, ceding the point. He reached for his face and after a moment of hesitation, he pulled the mask off, his single brown eye locking with her two green ones.

"Hey, Buffy," said Xander, "What brings you to New York?"

"Something big is coming," she said, "So I'm putting the team back together."

 **~o~O~o~**

 **I hope you enjoyed this first chapter. I've been sitting on this idea for a while but I think it's ready now. Please review and let me know what you thought of it.**


	2. An Early Night's Sleep

**Chapter Two: An Early Night's Sleep**

 _ **After a moment or two of observation she suddenly realised that the apartment was not so much clean as it was…**_ **barren** _ **.**_

"You doing alright there?" Buffy asked casually as Xander supported himself by sitting down on the edge of the fountain, seemingly unaware of the water dripping off of him.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm just super," he replied, "It's just that the bastard hit me in the same place that some other bastard got me a few days back." He nursed his left side, wincing slightly as he moved _just_ the wrong way. She sat down next to him patted him on the back.

"Buck up, big boy," she said, her grin cutting out the sting of her words, "We've got work to do and I need you at peak form. So that means no dying on me."

"Ha, ha, ha," he deadpanned, "Xander Harris is never going to die, he'll live forever. Apparently he's also going to speak in third person. Ha ha. Seriously though, if I ever do die, I promise that it won't be at the hands of some vampire." She laughed as she sat down next to him. "So what's the job?" he asked, "You said that you were putting the team back together because something big was coming. What's coming?"

"Worry about that later," she said, "When we're all together we can talk about it. Where are you living, anyway?" She turned to look at him. "Did you know that there are over _ten_ Alex Harris' living in New York City? I couldn't actually find a Xander Harris that was you."

"Well, there wouldn't be," he replied, "However, if you instead looked for a Jimmie Reese you would have discovered that he owns a little bar not too far from here and he lives in the apartment above it." She looked at him with a blank expression. " _I'm_ Jimmie Reese," he clarified.

"Why Jimmie Reese?" she asked.

"He once played second baseman for the Yankees and I always use Yankees second basemen for fake names," he said. Once again she looked at him blankly. "Remind me to lend you a Jack Reacher novel some time."

 **~o~O~o~**

The first thing that surprised Buffy about Xander's upstairs apartment was that it was surprisingly roomy. It had the kind of space that you could only find in a sit-com based in New York, rather than an actual New York apartment.

The second thing to surprise her was that it was spotless. From what she remembered, Xander had never been the most finicky people when it came to general tidiness. After a moment or two of observation she suddenly realised that the apartment was not so much clean as it was… _barren._ Aside from the furniture, a cheap looking television set and exactly six well-thumbed thriller novels, there were no signs that someone actually lived here. While she couldn't see inside the bedroom due to the interior door being closed, she was reasonably certain that it would look the same as the living room and kitchen. The lack of personal possessions made the place look even larger.

"Well, welcome to _mi casa,_ " said Xander, letting Buffy enter before him, "Sorry about the mess, the maid has been very lazy lately. The maid being me."

"How did you get this place?" she asked as she looked around, "Even for a dump like this, New York is expensive."

" _Hey,_ " he said defensively as she grinned at his reaction, "This is my home. Anyway, I won it in a card game… _oh_ … just about two or three months ago."

"A card game?" she laughed, "It sounds like you've had a couple of adventures while you were away."

"One or two," he said cryptically, cracking a smile. Neither of them said anything for a while after that and the friendly silence soon evolved into an _awkward_ silence. "So," he said awkwardly, clearly speaking just to shatter that deafening silence, "Can I get you anything to drink? Water? Coffee? Tea?"

"Actually, now that you mention it, tea would be great," she replied. As he boiled water for the tea she couldn't help but feel terrible over just how awkward this was, how guarded they were both acting. There was small talk but nothing of substance had actually been said. They had been friends but now was the first time that they had spoken in almost three years. The fight against the First Evil had been long and brutal, taking all of them to a very dark place and _none_ of them had handled it well. He had allowed himself to become more and more withdrawn to the point of just one day up and leaving after Anya died while she had gone to the other extreme, forcing her commands onto everyone without care for anyone else thought.

"Just let it sit for a minute or two," he said as he placed a steaming cup of tea before her as she sat at the kitchen counter.

"So how have you been?" she asked, internally wincing at the lameness of the question. "I mean, vampire dusting vigilante aside," she quickly added.

"I've been alright," he said, shrugging, "Among other things, I grew a beard." He pointed to his chin to illustrate the point. "What about you?" he asked, "How's things with the Slayers?"

"Quite good actually," she answered, "It's all changed quite a lot since you… uh, _left._ We've become a lot more organised. You remember Kennedy?" He nodded.

"She and Willow were dating right?" he asked.

"Not anymore," she said, "From what they both told me it was really more of a fling than an actual relationship. But now I've got her acting sort of as my second in command. She deals with all of the little things so I can focus on the direction of the organisation as a whole. Giles is always on the move, bringing new players on board. He even managed to find a few Watchers that survived the purge to join us. He seems to enjoy being the highest ranking Watcher on Earth." The corners of Xander's mouth twitched.

"That sounds like him," he said, grinning before taking a sip of tea, "He always loved being in charge."

"I catch him grinning at the thought whenever he thinks that I'm not looking his way," she stage whispered, leaning forward conspiratorially. They both laughed and for a second it felt like that the past few years had never happened and that they were as close as ever. "So where did you learn to fight like that?" she asked him before draining half of her tea, "You jumped off a bridge like it was nothing and all of that flipping and punching was new."

"You do that all the time," he pointed out.

"Yeah but I'm a Slayer," she said smugly, "What's your excuse."

"Fair enough," he replied, "I got some training a few years back. It wasn't deliberate preparation for what I do now or anything like that. If anything, it just out of sheer boredom."

"Seems reasonable." They were both silent as they finished the rest of their tea.

"So," he said after another awkward silence, "The bedroom is through that door. You can have that tonight. There's also a shower in there if you want. You know I'm surprised that you didn't book a hotel or at least bring a change of clothes."

"Well to be fair I didn't even know that I was coming to New York until, oh, six hours ago," she replied, checking her watch, "It was sort of a spontaneous, last minute thing." She screwed up her face as she realised something. "I don't suppose you have anything in my size?" she asked, really wishing that she'd brought a travel bag.

"Yeah, I might have a t-shirt and some shorts that could fit you," he said, "They'll probably be a little baggy but I'm sure that a woman as accomplished as you will find some to manage. And don't worry about the towels, they're clean."

"Thanks," she said, "I feel bad about taking your bed. Are you sure that you don't want me to sleep on the sofa?"

"Nah, it's fine," he said easily, "I usually fall asleep out here watching the TV anyway so it's all good."

"Well then, I think I'll turn in," she said, "After all it's… oh god, two-thirty in the morning."

"It's always good to have an early night's sleep," he said sardonically as she walked to the bedroom. She paused at the bedroom door and turned to look back at him as he settled onto the sofa.

"Hey, Xander," she called out softly. He looked up at her. "I don't think I said this before but… It's good to see you again." He smiled crookedly at her.

"Likewise, Summers," he replied, lying down on the couch and closing his eye, "Goodnight."

 **~o~O~o~**

Buffy savoured the sensation of hot water on her naked skin. She hadn't realised how much she had been wanting a shower until she saw the _en suite._ She immediately stripped down and tuned on the water to as hot as she could stand and stepped in. As she washed she let her thoughts drift to the others and wondered how they were doing. Odds were that Willow would still be in China for the next few days while she dealt with a sorceress that traded in Slayer blood. Giles and Dawn would be back at their base in Edinburgh along with most of their Slayers. Finally, she regretfully turned off the water as she _really_ needed to sleep. She rummaged through Xander's closet and drawers until she found something that was close enough to her size to wear to bed. Just as she was about to turn out the lights she noticed something at the bottom of one of the drawers. Curious, she reached down to pick it up and saw that it was a photograph, the only one that she had seen in the entire apartment. It was heavily folded and worn as though it had been carried a pocket for some time. She turned it over and choked back a tear when she saw what it depicted. It was a photo of them, all of them, clearly taken some time during her first year of college because Riley, Tara and Anya were all there as well. She smiled sadly. It had been a much simpler time then, all of them together and happy. Nothing had been the same since her resurrection. It had just led to one dark thing to another and another and another until there were times where she would wonder if the warmth and friendship off those early years had ever been real. The sad part was that it had been real and that they still had allowed themselves to drift apart from one another.

She placed the photo on top of the bedside chest of drawers and laid down on the surprisingly comfortable bed. As she slowly drifted off to sleep she let her thoughts wander. While putting the whole team back together again was an action strictly borne of necessity, a small, possibly naïve part of her was hoping that it could also help heal the rifts that had grown between them all.

 **~o~O~o~**

 **I hope you enjoyed this. The next chapter will feature the other Scoobies. Please let me know how you are finding the story, what you like and what you think could be improved.**


	3. Packing Light

**Author's note: Remember, this is 2007 so smart phones, streaming and social media are not as big as they are now. Yes, Buffy has a flip phone.**

 **Chapter Three: Packing Light**

 _ **Bruised, battered and beaten, she had desperately needed something to boost her up and he had just the words to do the trick.**_

 **Edinburgh, Scotland**

It was never a good sign when Faith Lehane was serious and focused. Even worse, she was following instructions without the slightest shred of insubordination or attitude. If you ever needed a sign that you were in the end of days it was hearing her say "Sir" ironically. But, then again, it was not as if she was without reason to take the current situation seriously.

Only four days ago, two of the six Slayers assigned to her had died in her arms, bleeding out until they simply slipped away, their still opened eyes staring vacantly up at her. The worst part was that nobody blamed her. If anything, she was praised for the fact that she had kept the other four girls alive. But the praise did nothing to help her. No matter what anyone else said, she felt like she had failed her girls, she felt like she was responsible for those deaths and she felt scared that more were coming.

It was never a good sign when Faith Lehane was scared.

 **~o~O~o~**

"Any word on Willow?" Faith asked. Giles shook his head wearily from behind his desk.

"Nothing since she left Shanghai," he said, "Anyway, she can't come back until she finishes her business over there."

"Oh that is bullshit," she replied angrily, pacing back and forth across his office's limited floor space, "What's happening here is way more important than any sorceress! My girls are _dying!_ "

"Which is why the world must see us acting as if it were business as usual," he said firmly. "We exist in a delicate balance, Faith. Just how many of our enemies would love to know that we are vulnerable? Until we know _exactly_ what it is that we are facing Buffy believes that it is best to act publically as if this is simply a minor thing and I happen to agree with her for the time being." Faith was about to angrily retort about how if " _precious Buffy_ " thought it was a good idea then everything would be fine but suddenly she just felt very tired. The energy simply drained from her as did her desire for a fight.

"I'm sorry, Sir," she said in a small voice, "Maybe you're right." If Giles was surprised by her use of the word "Sir" he hid it well.

"Don't worry about it," he said kindly, "Just make sure that you and your girls are getting enough rest. You look like you're a stiff breeze from falling down."

"I'll work on that, Sir," she said, turning around and leaving his office.

 **~o~O~o~**

 **New York, America**

Xander was still asleep on the sofa when Buffy left the bedroom, not entirely surprising considering that it was only a few minutes past six. Considering the previous night's adventures she decided to let him sleep while she made coffee. Once again, she was really surprised over just how Spartan his apartment was. The most extreme luxury item that she could find was in fact the coffee that she was now holding in her hand.

As she waited for the kettle to boil she glanced over at the sleeping Xander and considered her options. Part of her simply wanted to open the door and leave, never looking back. This was the part that remembered the fights, the shouting matches that gradually degenerated into spitting bile and venom at one another. She could still remember the morning he left. She had found Dawn sobbing in the base's garage and Xander's car missing. He had tried to slip away in the early hours but she'd caught him before he could. No matter how much she pressed, Buffy could never get her younger sister to tell her what was said between them.

However, the other parts of her could remember the boy who resuscitated her after the Master had drowned her, the man that stared down an enraged, homicidal Willow at the height of her powers all by himself without backup, powers or any weapons worth a damn and the friend that was always there for her. It had been eight years but she could still remember the words that he had said to her in the Bronze after her first disastrous week of college. Bruised, battered and beaten, she had desperately needed something to boost her up and he had just the words to do the trick.

"Buffy, I've gone through some fairly dark times in my life, faced some scary things, among them the kitchen at 'The Fabulous Ladies Night Club.' Let me tell you something, when it's dark and I'm all alone and I'm scared or freaked out or whatever, I always think, 'What would Buffy do?' You're my hero."

He always knew what to say which was how he was able to convince a good chunk of the Sunnydale High School students to smuggle weapons under their graduation robes and attack someone that they only knew as the Mayor. He had powers, just not of the supernatural variety.

She sighed as she made her decision, bringing him back was the right move.

"I forgot that Slayers wake up early." She smiled. Of course the moron wasn't going to sleep for eight hours.

"As do vigilante bar tenders, apparently," she shot back, "We have coffee."

"Halleluiah," he said, grinning as he hopped over the sofa, apparently able to simply shake off the need for sleep.

"Drink up," she instructed, "Our flight leaves in two hours." This time, his smile was somewhat bitter.

"You are so sure that I'm coming with you," he said, "I didn't say yes. Hell, I haven't even said that I'd _think_ about saying yes. What makes you so sure that I'm coming?" She shrugged.

"Simple," she answered, "You could have told me to piss off anytime from when I first showed up but you didn't. You knew that I'd only come here because something big was coming and that I wanted to recruit you. Stop playing coy with me. You and I both know what you're gonna say why not just say it and spare us all the dramatic tension?"

"So you want me back, just like that?" he asked.

"Just like that," she repeated.

"As if the past four years never happened?"

"Exactly like they never happened," she insisted.

"Are you actually buying that bullshit, Summers?" he asked her archly.

"Not at all," she said quietly. She looked down at her hands for a couple of seconds before speaking. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do," she said humbly, "There's a reason why didn't tell you what the job was."

"I figured," he replied, "You were being unusually cagey with the details. Why?" She shrugged again.

"Because I don't know." She had to force the words out, they stuck in her mouth. "That's the thing, I honestly don't know what's happening. There's these… I don't know what you'd call them… These tears in reality have been appearing all over Europe, thankfully not many and they close quickly but the number has been steadily increasing. Wherever they appear… bad things start happening. Sometimes they spit out monsters. _That_ we can handle, it's what we were made to do but that's rare, it's usually much weirder; unexplained deaths in bizarre circumstances, plant life withering away and dying, strange lights in the sky. In one case at a small town in Germany, every baby born that day died." She took a deep breath and continued. "Four days ago, one of these tears opened just outside our headquarters and a demon that we still haven't been able to identify emerged and killed six girls, all of them Slayers. Two were with Faith, the rest were all from different teams." She shook her head, still looking at her hands. "We don't know what they are, we don't know what's causing them and we – no, _I_ don't know what to do." Finally, she looked up at him.

"Please help me," she said simply. He scoffed briefly.

"What do you think I'm going to do?" he asked incredulously, "We all know that back in the day I was little more than a glorified bellboy."

"That's not true," she insisted, "We all contributed. We made it work. We were a team. That's what I need, I need the team and that includes you."

" _One night and one more time  
Thanks for the memories  
Even though they weren't so great"_

"Sorry," she said awkwardly, "It's my phone. Do you mind if I…?" He shrugged.

"Go ahead." She flipped open her phone and answered. "Hey," she said, "Oh, hi, Giles. She's on her way back? Oh that's great, God knows we could do with a friendly witch around. Hang on a sec." She covered the phone's receiver with one hand and looked at him. "He just asked me if I'm coming back with what I was looking for," she said, looking him dead in the eye, "What do I tell him?" Xander stared at her defiantly for a second before his face softened.

"I'll go pack a bag," he said finally. She took her hand off the receiver and mouthed "thank you."

"Yeah," she said, smiling, "I'm on my way back. Yes, I got what I came for. I'll see you soon." She disconnected the call before practically launching herself at him and pulling him into a hug.

"Ow, ow, ow," he protested, "Remember you have super strength."

"Oh sorry," she said, loosening her grip, "Now, are you going to hug me back?"

 **~o~O~o~**

Thanks to Xander's rather meagre collection of possessions, it took him less than fifteen minutes to have a bag packed. He figured that he'd be able to get anything else he needed in Scotland.

"You pack light," Buffy remarked dryly with a single eyebrow raised in amusement.

"No I pack normal," he countered, "You just pack a _lot_ so this seems light in comparison.

Just a mere forty minutes later they were in a cab bound for the airports. Another fifty-seven minutes after that they had managed to get through the highly invasive, highly time consuming, highly _useless_ airport security and finally make their way to their terminal and board the plane. "I would have thought that the Slayers would have had their own jet by now," Xander joked as they sat down, making sure to steal the window seat.. Buffy, however, didn't seem to share his humour and she looked away somewhat guiltily. His face fell. "The Slayers _do_ have their own jet by now," he said incredulously, "Then why did we just go through half an hour of letting the TSA touch my junk?"

"Willow kind of has it at the moment," she confessed.

"Of course she does," Xander replied, laughing at the thought of the tiny witch with a private jet at her disposal. They had had all come a long way since Sunnydale High School. His laugh then halted and his expression became pensive as he realised that he'd been avoiding asking a certain question. Buffy noticed the change on his face.

"What's up?" she asked, concerned, "You're looking all deep thoughty."

"How's Dawn doing?" he asked finally.

"She's been doing well," she replied after a moment's hesitation, "She works for Giles now."

"That's good," he said conversationally, "I'm glad that she's… good."

"You know, I found her sobbing in the garage the morning you left," she said evenly, keeping any and all emotion out of her voice, "What happened?" The plane started to take flight.

"What do you think happened?" he asked in response, "She asked me to stay and I said no. I then asked her to come with me and she said no." Buffy's head jerked up in surprise.

"I guessed the first bit but she never told me the second part," she just, still trying to process what she just heard.

"It was a spur of the moment thing," he explained, "But she said she wouldn't leave you. She tried to stop me again and we ended up yelling at each other. It was ugly. Do you think she's still mad?"

 **~o~O~o~**

 **Edinburgh, Scotland**

 **Nine hours later**

" _Shit!_ " Dawn cursed violently and banged the wrench against the floor. She's spent the better part of fifteen minutes trying to get one tiny little piece in place but to no avail. It was small and insignificant looking but apparently the motorcycle just wouldn't work without it. Before her was a (partially disassembled) beautifully restored 1971 Kawasaki KZ 900 motorcycle. It had been a hobby for the past three years, given a bit of work here and there, whenever she had a spare moment, no matter how fleeting, but now it was almost ready… _if she could just get that_ stupid _piece into place._

"Huh, you'd never know that thing was a wreck when we found it."

 _CLANG!_

The wrench slipped from her fingers and smashed against the floor, the sound bouncing off the walls. No, it couldn't be. Oh who was she kidding? Of course it was. "You son of a bitch," she snarled, standing up and turning around.

"So we're skipping the "Hello, how are you? What's new in your life?" portion of the conversation then?" Xander asked, standing there brazen as brass. She made a fist and swung it at his face but he caught it and twisted her wrist, spinning her around before immediately letting go. "So, _so_ sorry," he said holding out his hands with the palms facing her, "That was just a reflex. Kind of a force of habit. The last few months have kind of been… Sorry, rambling. Given how I left things between us I _definitely_ deserved that but I'm ready now so go ahead. I think you've earned the right to get a hit or two in. Although if you don't mind could you aim for the right side of my face?"

 **~o~O~o~**

 **I hope that you're enjoying the story. Please review and I'll see you next time.**


	4. Awkward is Not a Four Letter Word

**Chapter Four: Awkward is Not a Four Letter Word**

" _ **Xander, what were you expecting?" she asked, "That you were just going to waltz back into my life and that everything would be peaches and gravy?"**_

As it turns out, it is actually possible for some good to come out of a deadly bombing responsible for dozens of deaths. Take the destruction of the Watcher's Council for instance. For as long as she had known them, the Council had been an irritation at best and an outright threat at worst. Though in possession of knowledge, magic and near infinite practical resources, they had rarely seen fit to grace her with any aid, instead preferring to criticize her and when that was not enough, attempting to blackmail her.

However, it turned out that in the event of the deaths of every member of the organisation, the entire estate fell to her. Every building they owned, every item they had stashed away and their sizeable fortune was granted to her.

After a herculean strength of willpower, Buffy had resisted the urge to go on the world's biggest shopping spree and, instead, she immediately put it to work. She had taken their largest castle in Scotland to act as the Slayers' new headquarters. After paying for some much needed modernisation (seriously, it didn't even have _wi-fi_ ) I and the surrounding building were now home to over four hundred girls, all of them gifted with the same abilities as her.

After three years, Buffy the Vampire Slayer had a bona fide army at her disposal.

 **~o~O~o~**

It was amazing what three years could do to someone. When he had last seen her, Dawn Summers had been a girl, barely eighteen, small and more than a little on the shy side of things. While she was no taller than she had been three years before, she had clearly put on some muscle that, combined with certain, _ahem,_ developments, made it very clear that the _woman_ standing before him was no longer that little girl. She was currently wearing jeans, a short sleeved denim jacket and boots with a bit of engine grease and oil thrown in for good measure. Xander hated himself for thinking this but Dawn was _hot_.

A small part of him wondered how the past three years had changed him but the rest of him was currently focusing more on the stinging pain in his jaw.

"You know, when I said that you had earned the right to a free hit or two I didn't actually think that you were going to take me up on that offer," Xander mumbled thickly as he rubbed the (now slightly swollen) left side of his jaw, "I mean, _who_ _does that?_ "

"Oh trust me, you're _very_ lucky that I stopped at one punch," Dawn replied dangerously.

"I can't argue with that," said Xander thoughtfully, "I mean, that was one _hell_ of a right hook. A couple more of those and I wouldn't be getting up again."

"Buffy brought you in," said Dawn. It wasn't a question, she was making a statement.

"Yeah," he confirmed, "Actually, I hear it was you to thank for bringing me back in the first place. She said that you saw me on the news and that you then told her about it." Dawn looked up in surprise, the anger momentarily leaving her face.

"So that was you," she said distantly, "You're the guy that's been jumping around New York like it's your private playground. The Mask. Not a fan of the name. It's a little on the pretentious side having " _The_ " be part of the name."

"If it helps, I didn't pick the name. The media did," Xander said defensively, "It just kinda… _stuck._ "

"Well, now that that's clarified, _get the_ Hell _out of my garage,_ " she said coldly.

"Look, Dawnie–" he began before she immediately cut him off.

" _Don't_ call me Dawnie," she said harshly. His face fell and he looked at the floor.

"I had to go," he said quietly, still looking at the floor, "I just couldn't be here anymore. After the First, everything just felt… _sour._ I felt like everything that I loved had been twisted. I should have – I know that I should've called or wrote letters or something–"

"Yeah, you _should_ have," she said, cutting him off again, "Why didn't you? Do you have any idea what the first few months were like? Not knowing when you were coming back, _if_ you were coming back or even if you were still alive. I was _so_ worried all the time. You left us, you left _me._ You were my friend, my only _proper_ friend and that clearly meant nothing to you." If anything, Xander looked even more ashamed. "Xander, what were you expecting?" she asked, "That you were just going to waltz back into my life and that everything would be peaches and gravy?"

"Are you going to hit me again if I say yes?" he asked casually.

"Almost certainly and with extreme prejudice, yes," she replied instantly.

"So… _no_ then," he said very quickly, "You're right, I _should_ have called."

"I already know that I'm right," she shot back, "What of it?" He opened his mouth as though he was about to respond before quickly closing it and saying nothing. "Look," she said, "If you're here to help with whatever the Hell is happening, that's great, at this point we need all the help we can get but you need get one thing clear;

"We are not friends, Xander," she said bluntly, "You made that very clear three years ago. I'm willing to be polite but as for what we had, that's done." Xander stood still for several seconds, looking like he'd just been hit in the face again. Finally he jerked his head in a nod.

"Fair enough," he said thickly, "That's… fair enough. I'll leave you to your work."

 **~o~O~o~**

"Judging by your solemn expression, I take it your reunion with Dawn did not exactly go according to plan." Xander turned around to see none other than Rupert Giles standing there. After his disastrous attempt at patching things up with Dawn, he had walked aimlessly until he found himself at the top of the castle's most western tower.

It commanded a spectacular view of the sunset and he couldn't care less. He wasn't sure how long he had been there until he heard the Watcher's voice.

"Let's just say that it could have gone better," Xander replied sardonically, "Nice to see you again, Rupert." He extended his hand.

"And you too, Xander." Giles accepted the handshake. They both leant against the handrail in silence for almost half a minute.

"God, this is awkward," Xander said, suddenly laughing.

"I'm glad I'm not the only thought that," said the Watcher, chuckling slightly at the whole situation, "This is very weird."

"I know, right? What the Hell are we supposed to talk about?" Xander asked, mirth dripping from every syllable.

"Start with the basics?" Giles offered.

"Go for it."

"How have you been?"

"Alright. Yourself?"

"Can't complain. What have you been up to?"

"Full time bartender, part time vigilante. What about you?"

"Just helping around the place. I keep busy. Can't really complain."

"That's good, you don't want to complain about things. People tend to gossip when you do that."

"Very true," Giles agreed, "What happened with Dawn?

"Well, you know, things just – _Whoa,_ hang on a moment there," Xander protested, "That's definitely _not_ part of the basics."

"I said that I'd _start_ with the basics," said Giles in a frustratingly reasonable tone voice, "Now spit it out, what happened?"

"Why do you care?" Xander asked, attempting to deflect the conversation elsewhere but Giles was having _none_ of that.

"Because I love Dawn like she was my own daughter," he said simply, "Now what happened?"

"I came to apologise for up and leaving the way I did and she shot me down with absolutely no room for doubt," he said, "That's exactly what happened, nothing more, nothing less." He suddenly, _violently_ smacked his hand against the stone barrier. "It was stupid, stupid, _stupid!_ " he hissed, "What the hell was I thinking? At what point was I thinking? She was my best friend and I walked away from that. Really, at the end, she was almost my only friend. I know, Willow and Buffy were there but it's not like we were as close as we used to be. We sort of just drifted apart."

"Why did you leave?" Giles asked quietly.

"A lot of reasons, really," Xander said numbly, "Anya was a big part of that, I didn't want to be around anything that reminded me of her and this place was like a memory minefield. I was angry at Buffy for everything that happened when fighting the First. God, I was _angry._ As for the rest, I don't know, I guess that for nearly eight years I'd always felt like I was a glorified helper monkey, just a silly, comic relief side character in Buffy's story. I suppose I just wanted to see what I would be without that, if maybe I could be the main character in my own story." He sighed. "I have to admit," he continued, "You're not being as antagonistic as I was afraid you were going to be. If anything, you seem to be making an effort at being… well, _nice._ " Giles briefly laughed.

"What?" the older man asked, "Did you think that you were the first angry young man to lash out and make a mistake? Really? You thought you were the only person in all of human history to have done something stupid?" He laughed again. "Join the club, your membership car and t-shirt arrive in seven to twelve business days." This time, Xander laughed. It was a tired, sad little laugh but a laugh nonetheless.

"Thanks," Xander said suddenly, "I mean, you know, for… for letting me vent. I don't really talk about this stuff. To anyone. _Ever._ "

"Anytime," Giles said seriously, "Besides, we can't have you going off on a tangent. The real work starts tomorrow."

 **~o~O~o~**

 **Short chapter I know. Sorry. I'll make sure the next one is longer to compensate.**

 **Readers of my other Buffy fic "Heart and Eye" will probably note how… non-violent this reunion between Xander and Giles was in comparison with their other one (Chapter Twenty-Five for those who haven't read it). As fun as a repeat of that scene would have been, it wouldn't have been appropriate given the differences between the stories.**

 **Also, thank you to everybody following this. Please remember to review and leave feedback. It helps me with my writing.**


	5. Talking and Dancing

**Chapter Five: Talking and Dancing**

 _ **Nothing was capable of scaring him quite like the woman standing in front of him and he knew that, going easy or not, getting into a boxing ring with Faith Lehane was an exercise in insanity.**_

At five a.m. precisely, Xander's eye slowly opened and he took in his surroundings. Yep, it hadn't been a dream, he was really back. He climbed out of bed, quickly dressed and, after getting lost three times, made his way to the castle's gymnasium.

It was, in a single word, spectacular.

When he left three years earlier, he knew that Buffy was planning on making some renovations but this was somewhat grander than he had originally imagined. For starters, it was _huge_. There was an Olympic style fifty metre pool, complete with a deep end for high dives and a diving tower with three separate levels. Opposite the pool, separated by a wall of glass was the fully equipped, fully modern looking gym. It had everything from treadmills, to dumbbells, to benches, to weights, to boxing bags and it even had a fully sized boxing ring for sparring with a section for spectators. It was clear that Buffy had both a truly colossal amount of financial resources and an inability to say no to expensive purchases as that was the only way something like this could be added to the castle in the time that he had been gone.

He was impressed.

"Wow," he said aloud as he made his way to the boxing bag before throwing a few punches, "I just _know_ that this place costs more than my apartment."

"And then some," said a voice from behind him. His face darkened. He knew that voice, that husky, Boston accent. After a single moment, he stuffed the fear and the near all-consuming hatred that he was experiencing and turned around with his usual sardonic grin.

"Hey, Faith," he said, doing his best to keep his voice neutral, "How's it hanging? Made any small children cry recently?"

"Not since you left, no" she replied, "So you're back?"

"So it would seem," he answered before turning back to the bag and lashing out with a flurry of rapid fire punches. _Thump! Thump! Thump! Thump! Thump!_

"I gotta be honest here," she said, walking around him so she could watch his attacks, "Hearing that B brought you was a bit of a surprise."

"She said it was urgent, so I came. What of it?" Xander's tone really indicated that he wanted nothing more than for this conversation to come to a swift and sudden end. _Thump! Thump! Thump! Thump! Thump!_

She laughed briefly, a small, mocking chuckle. "Ah, nothing," she said dismissively, "It's just funny. Even after all these years, you still come a-running when she calls. It's loyal. You know, like a puppy trailing behind his owner."

"Since we're going with canine metaphors, I'd rather be a loyal puppy than the stray bitch no-one seems able to be rid of." _Thump! Thump! Thump! Thump! Thump!_

Her eyes widened and she grinned savagely at his response. "Oh look who grew a pair," she said viciously, grabbing his right fist in mid punch. "Can you talk and dance at the same time?" she asked challengingly, nodding at the boxing ring.

"Oh _please,_ " he laughed, snorting derisively, "Like I'd be stupid enough to go toe to toe with a Slayer. I do a lot of crazy things but masochism certainly ain't one of them." She grinned, showing her teeth.

"Aw come on," she faux crooned, "Who says I can't play nice just this once and go easy on you?" Every single particle in Xander's body was on high alert. Nothing was capable of scaring him quite like the woman standing in front of him and he knew that, going easy or not, getting into a boxing ring with Faith Lehane was an exercise in insanity. He could still remember that night, so many years past.

" _I thought we had a connection."_

His mind snapped back to the present. "Yeah, alright," he said gamely, walking to the ring, ducking under the rope barrier and climbing inside. No matter what she said, he didn't trust her to play fair even a single instant, he remembered the savagery that lurked just beneath her mocking exterior. On some nights he could even remember exactly how her hands had felt as they tried to slowly crush his windpipe, him unable to fight back against her unyielding iron grip.

She climbed in after him

He knew that her Slayer abilities were going to play a part in this fight no matter what she said and, once again, a part of him questioned why he was embarking on this folly. This was so stupid. She was stronger than him and just standing in her general proximity flooded him with fear.

Which is why he wanted to fight her. If he was going to be here for good this time, he _needed_ to be able to look her in the eye and not back down. That being said, he wasn't an idiot, he was fully aware of just how hopelessly, _hilariously_ outclassed he was and that if he was going to have any chance at all, he was going to need to be both very lucky and unpredictable.

What did he have going for him? What were the pros?

Well for starters, she was going to underestimate him because she was a Slayer and he was an oh-so normal person who was scared shitless of her.

What were the cons?

Oh that's right, she was a Slayer and he was an oh-so normal person who was scared shitless of her.

This was going to be great.

"Alrighty then," he said sourly, "Let's get this over with."

They started to slowly circle each other, neither ready to make the first move. "So," she said casually, "How was your vacation?" Suddenly, she lashed out with a vicious right hook that he only _barely_ managed to avoid. He grimaced. She as definitely holding back, at full speed, not only would the punch have connected but it would have sent him flying out of the ring. She smirked and he understood her game instantly. She was toying with him. As long as he entertained her she would hold back just enough to make it hurt for him but the second he put up a fight she would put him down. He wasn't even a potential threat to her, he was just new distraction. Despite the situation, he grinned. She didn't know it but she was merely the latest in a very long line of super powered individuals who had dismissed him as nothing more than a bystander.

"It wasn't that bad," he replied to her question, dodging another attack, this time a roundhouse kick, "Went around, saw a bit of the world, got a place in New York." He gave out a half-hearted punch of his own that she easily blocked before kneeing him in the gut, just hard enough to knock the wind out of him, nothing more as she was not yet bored.

"You're gonna have to do better than that, Harris," she said mockingly.

"Oh that was just a bit of probing," he said easily, the two still constantly circling each other.

"So, New York, huh?" she said in a disinterested tone, lashing out with a kick that swept his legs out from under him. He slapped the mat, absorbing the fall into his shoulders before flipping backwards so he was instantly back on his feet. "How was the big city?"

"I liked it," he said as though nothing had happened, "And the city liked me back. They even gave me a name, The Mask."

"So you were a Jim Carrey enthusiast," she said, unimpressed, hitting him hard in the jaw.

"Ha-Ha," he deadpanned, rubbing his face, "That's funny, you're very funny."

"I have my moments," she said with a dangerous edge to her voice. She was starting to get bored. She lashed out with a kick to his gut that he only barely managed to dodge before realising that it was a _feint_ , the real attack was the incoming right handed punch aimed straight at his face that would, on contact, finish the fight. As he watched her fist move towards him, time started to slow down to a crawl.

 **~o~O~o~**

This is Xander Harris.

He's not a Slayer, he's not a vampire, he is no demon and he is not magically gifted. In fact, he doesn't really have any abilities that make him stand out on the supernatural scene. He is in fact, totally, _disgustingly_ normal.

But that's fine, more than fine because, despite being normal, he is bestowed with one, singular talent:

 _Survival._

Somehow, without powers, he has managed to stand against vampires, demons, witches, curses and even gods without dying. Admittedly, a good percentage of these survivals were due to luck or friends in high places but he still thought it fair to claim a few of them for himself. Preventing a pack of zombies from blowing up the school was all him as was stopping Willow from burning the Earth to its core.

Faith's fist is hurtling towards his face with enough force to break down a door, if it hits him he _will_ go down and will not be getting up anytime soon. Even if this first punch fails to make contact, the next one will, or the one after that. She's bored with pretending to hold back and wants to move on and that requires hitting him. So, the idea is to make sure that not only does the first punch fail to hit him, she must also be rendered incapable of throwing another.

This is stupid. A normal person _cannot_ fight a Slayer when she's no longer holding back. It's an exercise in futility, an act of pure hubris. It simply can't be done. It is impossible.

But he's going to do it anyway.

Faith's fist moves forward another inch and as long as he keeps thinking as fast as he currently is it will continue to move at its glacial pace but he still really needs to do something about it. No matter how fast he could think, nothing could change the fact that eventually her fist was going to reach his face so he was going to need to come up with some kind of trick.

Hmm, that could work. It would only work once and if he failed to pull it off she would smash him but it is a _very_ good trick.

 **~o~O~o~**

Karate is the most recognisable of the martial arts. It is featured in all of the films, everybody remembers watching Daniel LaRusso crane kicking Johnny Lawrence under the chin as Mr. Miyagi smiles approvingly. However, the problem is that, while famous, it is not actually the best martial arts as it relies too heavily on the physical strength. Even if you have the best form, the best stance in the world, every punch or kick that will ever be thrown is entirely dependent on your muscles, on your body. Aikido, on the other hand, works quite differently. There is no punching or kicking or any kind of lashing out really. All of that is left to the enemy. The best part about it is that you don't have to be particularly strong because, again, that is left to the enemy. You just need to be fast and just a little bit lucky and, if you can pull it off, your opponent, no matter how strong, will be entirely helpless.

So that's _exactly_ what Xander decided to do.

 **~o~O~o~**

Time reverted to its usual speed but Xander was already moving. He reached forward with both hand to grab her incoming hand, all the while moving to the side, twisting her wrist in the process so that all of her weight was now bearing down on that joint. He continued to rotate until she was flipped onto her back. With a violent cry of frustration she tried to struggle but to no avail, his grip held and his stance was unwavering. The only way that she was getting up now was if he let her. He looked her in the eye.

"Are we done?" he asked firmly. Too angry to speak, she jerked her head forward, nodding. His grip relaxed and she was instantly on her feet, standing nose to nose with him, a look of _fury_ etched onto her face. Clearly, she was _not_ done. However, before she could pummel him into the next century, a loud voice rang out.

" _STAND DOWN!_ " Buffy's voice was strong and authority radiated off every single syllable. This was the woman that had once stared down a god.

"Relax, B," said Faith, backing away slightly, "It's all in good sport. Right, Cyclops?" Xander smirked.

"Yeah," he said sardonically, "Just a bit of fun." Buffy was clearly not convinced for even a second but she had more important matters to attend to/

"Well playtime's over," she said sternly, "Giles just called a war council."

 **~o~O~o~**

Something was very wrong. Giles was hardly a young man but in the early hours of the morning he looked _ancient._ Xander really did not want to know what could make this great man look so defeated but he had a sinking feeling that he was about to find out regardless.

"Thank you for coming so early," he said to the assembled high ranking Slayers, "I was planning on waiting until Willow returned for this meeting but due to the information we received half an hour ago, time is now of the essence." He took off his glasses and placed them down on the table, the action clearly a way to put off whatever he had to say. "A colleague of mine in London has been following the rifts that have been the sole cause of our recent problems and believes that she has determined what they are. There's no easy way to say this so I am simply going to be blunt. The tears in our reality are merely the first wave of something far worse. It's… Something is attempting to cross from one dimension into our reality. They called the Old Ones and I don't know if we are able to stop them."

 **~o~O~o~**

 **Please remember to review**


	6. KU – 2 LoO

**Chapter Six: KU – 2 * LoO**

 _ **For a moment, Xander thought that she was crying but then he realised that it was so much worse. Buffy Summers looked utterly defeated.**_

It was moments like this that Morgan Cooper lived for. Sure, work was hell and his ex-wife wasn't much better but playing in the park with his kids after a long day was something that he would never get tired of. It was the same variation of football that every parent had ever played, all of the rules go hang if it meant the kids winning.

He had picked up his only son, Joshua and sung him around to the ten year old's delight when his youngest daughter, Rebecca suddenly screamed. He immediately put his son down and turned around and his blood went cold. He had let himself get momentarily distracted and she had wandered over to the road but that wasn't the scary part. The scary part was that he realised that he was completely powerless to prevent what was coming next, he was just too far away.

" _DADDY!_ " she screamed as she was dragged away.

 **~o~O~o~**

"Yes, Andrew, I'm glad to see you too," Xander said, making a positively _herculean_ effort at masking the irritation in his voice as he attempted to force the clingy blonde off of him. The former Trio member was rather enthusiastic to have the former Scooby back with the team and had absolutely no problem letting his feelings known.

Eventually, Xander managed to extract himself from Andrew's grasp and made his way to Buffy's office. He had to supress a smirk.

 _Buffy's office._

Buffy Summers now had an office.

She had sure come a long way from her days of operating out of a public high school library and later struggling to pay the mortgage. He knocked three times on the door.

"Come in, it's unlocked," he heard before opening the door and taking in the room. It was pretty swanky, as far as offices go anyway; a massive hardwood desk, velvet carpeting, two heavily stacked bookshelves, a rather large television screen attached to the wall by brackets, a small sofa, a truly _spectacular_ view of the local Scottish countryside with a golden sunset and a computer that Buffy was currently typing on with some considerable speed. "Just a moment," she said before he could say anything, quickly finishing her work before looking up at him. "Just a thing in Istanbul," she said by way of explanation, tapping the monitor, "What do you think of the place?" She gestured around the office, rather proudly actually.

"Very swish," he said, grinning, "Do I get one?"

"Eh, we'll see," she said, her tone deliberately vague.

"Fair enough," he replied, "Look, about that thing with Faith that you walked in on –"

"Already forgotten," she interrupted, "Just make sure it doesn't happen again. Faith, as I'm sure you know, likes to play rough."

"I'll keep that in mind," he said, flopping onto the sofa. "So," he said, gathering his thoughts, "Old Ones."

"Yeah," she said flatly, "Old Ones."

"Hell of a thing to be brought back for," he said before taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly. "Look, Buffy," he began, "You know I'm here for as long as you want me here but… Old Ones. What am I supposed to do against something like that? What do you want me to do?" She sighed and leant forward, resting her elbows on her desk.

"In all honesty I don't know what any of us are supposed to do," she said softly, "It was bad enough when they were just rifts but now, if Giles' friend is right, it's something bigger than any of us have ever gone against and I don't know what to do. You remember the old days? We went against the end of the world every other week and somehow we _always_ managed to find a way. Guess that's why I brought you in. I needed that back, all of us working together to bring down the big bad." He cracked a smile, thinking back on "the good old days" as she had put it. They had been put through an awful lot crap during those years but Xander had to admit that she was right about the team unity and how they always managed to persevere no matter what they were up against.

"Hey," he said suddenly, "Do you remember those candy bars that made all the grown-ups think they were kids?" She laughed briefly.

"Yeah, that was insane," she replied, grinning at the memory, "Snyder and 'fun city' sort of stick in the mind."

"It wasn't all bad," he said, fondly reminiscing, "There were a lot of good times. To be honest, those are the moments I try to remember the most."

"Same," she agreed before changing topic and tone. "So how did it go with Dawn?" she asked.

"Not great," he admitted, "Giles actually asked the same thing last night. She's not gonna forget what I did and she probably shouldn't either." Buffy sighed.

"You know," she said, "I could try talking to her and–" The phone on her desk rang, interrupting her mid-sentence. "Do you mind if I get this?" she asked apologetically.

"Go ahead," he said casually, "After all, a Slayer's work is never done."

"I become more aware of that with every passing second," she said wryly before picking up the phone. "It's Summers speaking," she said into the receiver. She was then silent for several seconds, her face gradually becoming darker. "Okay," she said finally, "I'll call all of the seniors together and come up with a course of action. Thanks for letting me know and I'll be sure to keep you in the loop when I've made a decision." She disconnected the call and then she just collapsed her face into her hands. For a moment, Xander thought that she was crying but then he realised that it was so much worse. Buffy Summers looked utterly defeated.

"What happened?" he asked carefully.

"That was DCI Grey, a police officer we have connections with," she said tonelessly, simply stating the facts, "A little girl was taken half an hour ago. At the moment, the primary suspects are members of a local motorcycle gang by the name of Hades' Brood. This is the fifth girl in the past two months. No-one has been able to track them to their base of operations." Her speech was robotic, numb, as they she wanted to emotionally distance herself from what she was saying.

"Obviously that's not good," said Xander in a confused, "But why is a police officer telling _you_ that? Isn't that something that the police would ordinarily deal with? Why is this Slayer jurisdiction?"

"The bodies of the girls that they take are usually found forty-eight hours after the abduction," she said in the same voice, "And they have clear signs of demonic possession. We think that the gang trades the girls to demon in exchange for power or wealth or something like that. After the third girl the police reached out to us. _That_ is why it is Slayer jurisdiction." She took a deep breath. " _No more,_ " she said fiercely, "I will _not_ look at another dead little girl that I failed to save. I'm calling a meeting."

 **~o~O~o~**

"This is Rebecca Cooper," said Faith, an image of the kidnapped girl displayed on the screen behind her. If Xander was surprised seeing her giving the presentation he hid it well. Clearly the former wayward Slayer had retained a position of high rank and respect over the past three years. "She was abducted just over an hour ago at a local park. The police believe that she was taken by members of the gang Hades' Brood." There was a sharp intake of breath from the assembled Slayers as she said the name. "Judging by the reaction I'm guessing that you've all been keeping up with the news. Good, that means I can keep this short because we're all on a count down. The longest it's taken for the previous girls to show up dead is forty-eight hours which means that we have forty-seven hours _at most_ to find her. You are all to split up into your squads and your captains will tell you your individual assignments. Let's move quickly people, we're not going to let Rebecca down." The Slayers all rose and split off into their teams as Xander approached Buffy.

"What do you want me do?" he asked.

"Giles, Andrew and Dawn are already in the library," she answered, "They're comparing the abduction to the previous ones to see if there's anything any of us missed. Help them out."

"Yes, ma'am," he said hallway seriously, patting her on the arm in solidarity.

"I'll be out in the field with my team," she replied, "We'll all be searching a different area for the girl. I want you to call us if any of you are able to find something that could point us in the right direction."

 **~o~O~o~**

Xander mumbled something under his breath. "What was that?" Giles asked. Xander looked up.

"Sorry?" he asked, "What?"

"Did you say something?" the Watcher clarified.

"Oh sorry," said Xander, smiling slightly, "Just thinking out loud. I said that this was the one thing I didn't miss, lots of books and papers to read."

"Well then we'll just ask the police to not file a report the next time a little girl gets kidnapped and murdered," Dawn said in an icy tone of voice, "After all, we wouldn't want you get bored."

"That's not what I meant," Xander quickly protested, "I was just–"

"Whatever," she said dismissively, "Just get back to work." Xander opened his mouth as though he was about to respond but then shut it and looked back down at his paper. It was about the first girl taken, a Juliet Tyler, twelve years old. Her body was found sooner than the others, barely twenty-four hours after the initial abduction.

"Why was she found so early?" he mused, "The other girls all took nearly two days to be found. It just stands out. They were all left in parks right?"

"Yes," said Giles, "The girls were all discovered in the early hours of the morning in public parks."

"And according to reports, the girls were all killed just a few hours before being found?"

"Yes," Giles repeated, "Where are you going with this?"

"Maybe nowhere," Xander said bluntly, "But for some reason, Juliet was killed nearly a day earlier than the others. Every other one was alive for almost two days after being abducted so she stands out. Why did she die sooner or maybe the question is why did the others die later?"

"Is there a point to this or are you just trying to waste our time?" Dawn snapped. Xander took the rebuke without responding in kind.

"I don't know," he admitted, "Maybe I am but… I don't know, there's just something about the lack of delay in killing her that bothers me. If you're going to kill someone, every second you don't is a second that something could go wrong; you could be found out by them calling for help, they could escape, you might lose your nerve, _anything_ could happen. She was the first, all of the others took longer to die. What happened? Why the delay?" He stood up and paced around the library for a minute or two. "Hang on," he said suddenly, "Buffy said that there were clear signs of demonic possession. What were they?"

"Relatively standard if fairly horrific signs," Giles said distastefully, "Bodily fluids dried out, markings on the skin, ectoplasm leaking everywhere. You know, the usual."

"What were the markings?" Andrew asked, speaking for the first time in a while, "I don't think I've seen those."

"Carvings and tattoos," said Dawn, evidently okay with answering questions provided they were not asked by someone wearing an eyepatch. "Here," she said, tossing him a pile of coronary photos. Andrew winced as he looked through them, he really didn't like looking at children so brutalised. However, his eyes suddenly became very round when he saw the tattoos.

"Look at this," he said animatedly, gesturing wildly at the photograph before him. The photograph showed Juliet's left wrist with a series of letters, symbols and numbers tattooed onto it.

 **KU – 2 * LoO**

"What?" Giles asked, "What am I looking at?"

"I'm not seeing it either," Dawn said. In contrast, Xander was quiet.

"Oh," he said a soft voice, "That could be bad. Please tell me this isn't what I think it is."

"What is it?" Dawn demanded, "I don't know what you two are seeing but we're sure as hell missing it."

"Giles, ignoring the dash and the star, read the letters and the two phonetically as though they formed a word," said Andrew in an unusually authoritarian voice. The Watcher duly read it out.

"Kutuloo," he said in momentary confusion before comprehension dawned on his face. "No way," he said in quiet horror, "How did we miss that?"

"That's because neither of you are old school sci-fi fans," Andrew said.

"Dawn," Giles said in a level voice, "Kutuloo seems to be another way of saying _Cthulhu._ "

"Why do I feel like I've heard that name before?" she asked, "It sounds familiar."

" _Cthulhu_ is the most famous creation of Howard Phillips Lovecraft," said Giles, "More commonly known as HP Lovecraft. He was a writer of some renown in the early twentieth century, often credited as the father of modern horror and science fiction."

"And also being a massive racist, sexist prick," Xander added darkly. "What?" he asked defensively when Giles shot him a withering look, "Come on, he really was. In _Medusa's Coils,_ the horrifying twist is that generations ago, one of the characters had a black ancestor. He treated it as something just as bad as his monsters. He said "I love that boy" while talking about Hitler. _Hitler!_ "

"How is this relevant?" Dawn asked impatiently.

"Well, as you know, the writer Dante had visions of the Underworld that served as his inspiration for _The Divine Comedy,_ " Giles answered, "And while his own personal biases may have coloured the narrative, it was still mostly an accurate guide for finding your way around down there. Other writers have been similarly touched with visions, Sin-liqe-unninni, Homer, Sir Thomas Mallory, William Shakespeare and also Lovecraft. You all remember Mayor Wilkins' final form? Lovecraft had visions of his kind and they drove him mad with terror. Visions of Old Ones. It would seems that these abductions and the recent rifts might not be entirely unrelated."

"That might be right," said Dawn, "But it doesn't help us find the girl."

"Actually," said Giles thoughtfully, "That might not necessarily be true. Because now I think that I have a better idea on what to look for. If these abductions are offerings to the Old Ones that might make it easier to find. Like Lovecraft, the acolytes of Cthulhu were never subtle."

"So," said Xander, "Just so we're clear, Cthulhu, frickin' _Cthulhu,_ is real?"

"Unfortunately yes," said Giles.

"Fuck."

 **~o~O~o~**

Even though he had been doing this for decades, Giles had to admit to himself that he would never be the magic user that Willow was. She lived and breathed magic the same way he did air but he still possessed some talents. Besides, even a rudimentary magician could cast the spell he was preparing.

While ordinarily a locator spell requires something of what the magician is trying to find this was no ordinary situation. Old Ones, like Lovecraft, were the exact opposite of discrete, their very presence screamed out into the world. And anyone can listen, you just have to concentrate.

 **~o~O~o~**

Faith looked at the three teams of girls at her back. "Alright listen up," she said authoritatively, "We now have a possible location on Rebecca Cooper. This is more than we have ever had on any of the previous girls so we are not going to screw this up. I know that you're angry, I am too, but we want to bring her back alive. Save her and then we can kill whoever did this.

"First team will attack the building from behind, make a lot of noise, let 'em know your there. While this happens team two will come through the front door and engage whoever is inside. Finally, team three, led by me will make a beeline for the girl while the other two teams keep them distracted. We can do this."

Within ninety minutes nearly half of them would be dead.

 **~o~O~o~**

 **The next chapter will be very heavy on the action. Please remember to review.**


	7. This looks like a job for Aquaman

**I thought that I would try something different with the chronological layout of this chapter**

 **Also, sorry about the delay in updates. I hope this longer chapter makes up for it.**

 **Chapter Seven: "This looks like a job for Aquaman"**

" _ **What are you doing?" she whispered. He could feel her pulse beat rapidly against his fingers. Her hand was trembling.**_

 _ **The Present**_

It was the flickering light that unsettled him the most. Had the light remained constant he would easily be able to see everything around him and, if it were simply dark, he was sure that his eye would adjust. However, the murky inconsistent light forced him to tread carefully and it sure as hell did nothing to help with his mood. The lighting (or lack thereof) forced everything into shadow, grotesquely exaggerating everything around him, the scurrying of the rats around him looking like the beginnings of some horrifying ambush, the broken furniture resembled predators lying in wait for their prey and the entire building groaned as though it knew that it now had an unwanted intruder walking about its halls. He gritted his teeth as he struggled to keep his rage under control.

Somewhere in this hellhole was a terrified little girl.

 **~o~O~o~**

 _ **Two Hours Ago**_

It was a condemned apartment block, scheduled for demolition. It was perfect for squatters or for crazed cultists who needed a place to store a kidnapped child. Faith remembered her and her mother staying in a similar building at one point when she was still living in Boston. Even after all these years she could still remember the smell of piss, sweat and human excrement, all mixing together to create the same stench that was hanging in the air now. She could remember the moaning of hollowed out people as they eagerly injected god knows what into their veins to keep the voices at bay, the sounds of angry fucking in the room next to hers and the screaming, shouting and sobbing that she could still hear to this day whenever she closed her eyes.

She knew what it was like to be a little girl in a place like this. Whoever took her was going to pay.

She furiously shook her head to clear her thoughts of rage. She had a job to do, all that mattered was saving the girl. There was just something about the place that was bringing all of these long buried memories to the forefront. It was making her breakout in a cold sweat.

 _Hang on!_

She was sweating. Actually sweating. And she was not the only one. She looked around and could see that the other slayers were also drenched in sweat with looks of unease on their faces. Something was very wrong, she could feel it in every cell of her body.

 **~o~O~o~**

"What are you reading?"

Xander looked up and to his surprise he saw Dawn standing before him. She was wearing dirty, oil stained jeans and a simple white (if dirty) camisole that left her shoulders entirely uncovered. So shocked was he to see her standing there talking to _him_ that he forgot that in a conversation, he was supposed to reply when asked a question and instead his mouth just hung open. She looked at him blankly, clearly expecting a response. "Are you going to answer me?" she asked. He snapped his mouth shut.

"Uh, yeah, of – of course," he stammered, "I'm just reading this, um, _The Call of Cthulhu._ It's the first Lovecraft story to feature Cthulhu and I think it's also the only one to give him a really prominent part. I just want to see if there's anything in there worth looking at. I just feel like that there's something I'm missing, something staring me straight in the face and I'm going to feel like the world's biggest idiot when I finally figure it out."

"You don't feel like the world's biggest idiot usually?" she asked wryly. He chuckled.

"I have my moments," he said.

 **~o~O~o~**

 _ **The Present**_

He could hear movement upstairs. Dust descended on him like powder snow as footsteps smashed onto the floor above his head. He paused in midstride and took several deep breaths. While his emotional side knew that this was something that he had to do, the colder, more logical side to his psyche was currently screaming at him to turn around and walk out the way he entered. This was _stupid,_ it was telling him, this was not his fight.

But there was a kid in danger.

 **~o~O~o~**

 _ **Two Hours Ago**_

Kristin's eyes rolled to the back of her head and she slumped to the dirty floor. Kristin had been part of Faith's squad for two years as well as a regular sparring partner. She was a stocky power horse of a woman and the thought of her simply collapsing like that was so alien to Faith that she simply stood there, unable to speak or even respond in any fashion, her eyes wide with horror. Suddenly, something clicked in the Slayer's brain and she sprung to action. "Casey," she snapped, "Take her outside and stay with her, Sandra, Katherine, we continue with the plan. Let's move." Katherine stayed still.

"But we haven't heard anything," she protested, "The first team should have attacked by now, we should have heard something, _anything?_ " Faith considered what she had to say before shaking her head.

"You're right," she said, "But until we know for certain otherwise, we act as though we're all still following the plan. We have to…" She swooned and only the quick reactions of Sandra and Katherine prevented her from following Kristin to the floor… for about half a second as their knees soon too buckled and all three were piled up on one another.

"What is this?" Katherine gasped as her face started to _bleed_ sweat. She tried to push herself up but her hand slipped and sent her back down. Faith reached to her side and grabbed her knife but suddenly gasped with pain and dropped it.

The blade was _molten_ , glowing cherry red, hissing and crackling.

And then the laughing started.

 **~o~O~o~**

"So," said Xander, "Does this mean that you're talking to me again?"

"I haven't decided yet," she said, sitting opposite him, "I'm still angry at you."

"I know," he said simply, "Is there anything I can do?"

"I really don't know," she said bluntly.

"So what is this then?" he asked.

"I really don't know," she repeated, "Maybe just… I don't know… looking for a way past this."

"I wish that you had come with me when I asked all those years ago," he said quietly.

"So it's _my_ fault?" she angrily demanded, her head snapping up sharply and her eyes blazing.

"No," he said calmly, "But I still wish that you'd come along." He smiled sadly. "It wasn't all bad, you know, the open road." His eye momentarily sparkled. "I travelled around a bit and I saw so much but…" He shrugged, still smiling that sad smile, "It did get lonely at times. It might have been nice to… have someone to share all of that with." He then did something unexpected, he reached forward and gently covered her hand with his own. Her hand twitched and, for a second it appeared that she would jerk it away from his grip but then the moment passed and her hand remained under his.

"What are you doing?" she whispered. He could feel her pulse beat rapidly against his fingers. Her hand was trembling.

"I really don't know," he said, echoing her previous words. "Do you want me to stop?"

 **~o~O~o~**

 _ **The Present**_

No metal. No modern technology of any kind. A dozen or so bad guys. That's what he had to work with.

Not exactly the world's best odds.

Ah well, he had done more with less.

But the laughing was certainly starting to creep him out.

 **~o~O~o~**

 _ **Two Hours Ago**_

They descended on the Slayers, whooping and hollering, humans no longer, simply mad, gibbering, _grabbing_ shapes of flesh. Like waves crashing on a rock they hurled themselves at Faith and her team, reaching out for them with claw like talons.

Under ordinary circumstances, people, even ones as crazed as these ones, should have been a pushover for one Slayer, let alone _three_. But these were not normal circumstances.

Something was very wrong.

Faith's muscles, usually liquid steel, felt sluggish and clumsy and her reaction time was no better. She was hurled to the floor by the weight of bodies and it was all she could do to keep them from hitting anything important but they clawed away at the flesh on her arms. She howled with pain and, despite her muscles feeling like they were on fire, she forced herself to her feet and lashed out with a truly savage left hook, instantly snapping the neck of her nearest attacker.

However, that simple act of defiance drained the last of her remaining energy and, like a puppet whose strings had been suddenly cut, she collapsed to the ground in a heap.

She could taste iron.

Red, sticky iron.

Distantly she could hear Sandra scream in agony as the steel caps in her boots began to glow.

 **~o~O~o~**

 _ **One Hour Ago**_

Dawn still hadn't moved her hand. Finally she sighed and shook her head.

"Xander, what are we doing?" she asked tiredly, "You left last time so what's to stop you from doing the same when we're done with this Cthulhu thing?"

"Leaving was a mistake," he said, "At least, it was a mistake to leave the way I did. If I could do it all over, trust me, things would have been different. Is it so hard to believe that after three years a man can realise when he's made a mistake?"

Dawn said nothing.

"Come on, Dawn," he pressed, "You have to think that too, at least a part of you does anyway, otherwise you wouldn't be her now, talking to me."

Dawn opened her mouth, about to speak when Andrew rushed into the room.

"Buffy called a meeting," he said urgently, his eyes wild.

"What's wrong?" Dawn asked, pulling her hand away and standing up.

"Faith is back," he said, "There were deaths." He exhaled sharply. "There were lots of deaths."

 **~o~O~o~**

Faith was a mess; battered, bruised and bleeding with enough injuries to kill a dozen normal people, kept alive only by her indomitable will and burning need to painfully end the people responsible.

Giles stood by her bedside trying (and failing miserably) to keep the horror off of his face.

"You shouldn't try to speak," he said as calmly as he could manage, "The injuries that you have sustained to your throat will only be exacerbated by talking. Katherine has been able to tell us a little of what happened. First of all, it is important that you know that what happened was not your fault. If anything, it was mine, you were given bad intelligence. The building had some sort of energy field that cancelled out anything magic or supernatural. As Slayers are magical creatures, you were all hit with the full force of it. In addition to that, the field also attacked anything metallic which is why your weapons burned you when you went inside. The spell or whatever it was must have been performed by someone with perfect focus otherwise it would have also attacked the metal supports that were holding the building together."

" _Whhthpnedtodegrl?_ " The sound that came out of her mouth was barely human.

"Don't try to speak," Giles said gently, "Save your strength."

" _What… happened… to… the… girl?_ " She forced every single word out, slowly and deliberately.

"You don't need to worry about that right now," he insisted.

"What _happened!?_ " Her head slumped against the pillow, the simple act of defiance taking the rest of her energy.

"We weren't able to get her out," he said finally, not meeting her gaze, "She's still there."

 _We weren't able to get her out._

 _We._

He used that word to try to shoulder some of the blame but it didn't work. He hadn't even been there.

 _She_ was the one who had left a little girl behind in that nightmare.

 _She_ was to blame.

She didn't even try to fight as the tears silently slid down her face.

 **~o~O~o~**

"So what happens now?" Dawn asked. Buffy shrugged in a defeated sort of way.

"I really don't know," she confessed quietly, "Seven of our girls just died. I can't just throw more people into that. I've reached out to DCI Grey and informed her of what happened. She's in the process of arranging a raid on the building but they can' bring anything metallic so that's slowing them down considerably. No handcuffs, batons, steel cap boots. Hell, even the body armour has metal in areas."

"Is the girl… Sorry, is Rebecca still alive?" Andrew asked hesitantly, not sure if he wanted to know or not.

"I-I…" Buffy's voice trailed off, "I _think_ so, it's still only been a few hours since she was taken. It's always been at least a day until the other girls would show up." She sighed and rested her palms on her desk looking much older than a twenty-five year old woman. "I really don't know. The problem is that the building targets, no, _brutalises_ even the slightest shred of magical power so none of us can go anywhere near it without having what happened to Faith and her team happen to us. What we need is…"

Dawn zoned out of the discussion as she looked around the office and realised that someone was not there.

 **~o~O~o~**

 _ **The Present**_

The swarm attacked him all at once from all sides, piling into him. _So much for stealth,_ he thought sardonically. He twisted his body out of the combined grip and shoved the closest attacker to the ground, using their body to flip over and out of the scrum.

He reached for his belt and grabbed the two thick wooden dowels that had been hanging there.

"Sorry, boys, no metal," he said venomously before savagely smashing the downed man in the head with the two sticks. He brandished the weapons at the rest. "Alright then, who's next?"

 **~o~O~o~**

 _ **One Hour Ago**_

"What are you doing?" Dawn demanded as she entered the garage. Xander grinned without mirth. He was dressed in all black, jeans, a long sleeved shirt and leather gloves.

"That's the second time that you've said that to me today," he said with unconvincing flippancy as he walked towards her motorcycle. "By the way, you don't mind if I borrow this for a bit?"

" _Excuse me?_ "

"Don't worry, I'll bring it back with a full tank of gas," he said, "I just need it for a couple of hours. Also, _nice work_ on the bike. It looks great."

"You're going after the girl." It was a statement, not a question. He shrugged.

"I just feel like taking the bike out for a spin," he said blandly turning away. She roughly grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him back around so that he was facing her again. She was about to repeat herself when she suddenly realised that both of them knew what she was going to say.

"What do you think you'll be able to do?" she asked.

"You heard your sister," he said, "It's going to take the police hours to be able to safely storm the building and by then, Rebecca could be dead. I'm not magic, I'm just your everyday, run of the mill normal guy. It's one of those "This looks like a job for Aquaman" situations."

"You can't do this alone," she insisted.

"Well it's not like I have much of a choice," he shot back, "Everybody here is magic. Hell, even Andrew technically counts. I'm literally the only person here who's not magical."

"I'll come with you," she offered. He scoffed incredulously.

"Are you _crazy?_ " he exclaimed, "Like I'd let you within a _mile_ of that place."

"But I don't do magic," she protested, "The one time I tried a spell it damn near blew up in my face. You don't need to protect me. I can look after myself."

"Dawn, you're magical," he immediately shot back, "And I don't mean in the "you're a very special person" kind of way. Well, I do also mean it that way but… _Every_ single cell in your body is magical key energy. If you went inside that building I have no idea what could happen to you. You could just fade away for all I know. I don't know what would happen to you. Right now, the only thing that I _do_ know is that I would rather go there alone then risk anything happening to you."

"If you go there alone. You. Will. Die," she insisted.

"Maybe I'll get lucky," he replied, cracking a smile, "Dawnie, when I was a kid, my Dad showed me affection by deliberately _missing_ when he threw beer bottles at my head. My mother was so drunk that half the time she couldn't even recognise the sound of my _voice_. My life was filled with screaming, violence and broken furniture and every night I would pray, literally _pray_ , for someone, _anyone,_ to help me. What that little girl is going through right now makes my childhood look like a day at the carnival. How could I just leave her? I can't do that, Dawnie, I-I just can't. So can I please borrow your bike?"

She silently reached into her back pocket and placed the keys in his hand. His fingers wrapped around the keys and her hand.

"Thank you," he whispered, "Look, if… If… If things don't work out and it all goes hell and I… you know… Well, that would mean that this is my last chance to say sorry. Because I am, very sorry. I shouldn't have left, not like that and… well, I'm just sorry for everything I did. The one thing that bothered me about my life in New York is that if something went wrong… I just fon't want to regret not saying the things that I should have said."

"Don't talk like that," she replied thickly, "It's going to be okay, it's all gonna turn out great and then I can get back to hating you."

"Sounds good," he said. He slowly released her hand and reached into his pocket, pulling out a large black square of cloth.

"What's that?" she asked causing him to grin in response.

"I thought you saw me on the news, Dawnie," he said, folding the cloth into a triangle and wrapping it around his head until it was a serviceable bandanna mask with a single eyehole. "How do I look?"

"Like a really bad Westley from _The Princess Bride_ cosplayer," she replied instantly despite her tears.

"Awesome," he deadpanned, "That's exactly the look I was going for."

 **~o~O~o~**

 _ **The Present**_

Xander was bleeding from half a dozen different places on his body, his shirt ripped and torn. He forced his way through the crowd and sprinted for the stairs that led up to the flats using the limited space to offset their numbers. That only bought him about thirty seconds as he was slowly forced up the stairs by their frenzied attacks and into the first floor hallway. The restricting hall still gave him the chance to fight them in reduced numbers.

At least until someone came up from behind him and grabbed him around the elbows, pinning his arms to his back and forcing him to drop the sticks. Now that his arms were immobilised, the thing in front of him that used to be a Hades' Brood gang member was free to wail on him, raining punch after punch into his stomach. Xander slumped forward and coughed up blood, catching a glancing blow on the chin. He forced himself back up to a standing position before kicking out with both legs, catching his front facing attacker in the gut. Now that Xander's legs were no longer supporting him, the man holding him swayed and toppled due to the sudden increase in weight. Xander managed to wiggle out and roll with the descent before kicking out the legs of the next guy, causing him to roll back down the stairs, taking another two with him. He climbed to his feet as the remaining crazed gang members ran up the stairs.

Four gang members left.

He collapsed backwards, allowing himself to lean against the wall. He needed to rest for just a _second_ before pushing himself off and catching the nearest gang member in the chin with a right hook. While the Hades' Brood member went down, Xander howled as he felt a stabbing pain in his right hand. Hitting bone with that much force had resulted in some self-inflicted damage to his hand but that was something that he would have to worry about later, instead barrelling into the next one. He gripped him about the midsection and charged, slamming him into the door of one of the apartments with such force that the door cracked on impact. Xander kicked him again, this time the attack was strong enough to push him through the door and into the apartment. He scooped up piece of the ruined doorframe and smashed him in the face with the wood, repeating the action two, three, four times until even such a maddened, enraged creature was out cold.

Xander leapt to his feet just in time to be knocked back down to the floor by the remaining two gang members. He gasped in pain as one of them kicked him straight in the chest, breaking a rib judging by the cracking sound. As the madman went to kick him again, Xander grabbed him by the raised foot and savagely pushed at the joint, completely shattering the ankle. As he fell to the floor, Xander lashed out beside him and elbowed him roughly in the throat.

Reaching out for the wall, despite the fire burning in his chest, he managed to pull himself back up to his feet and face the final man. Raising both arms before his face, he was able to block a wild haymaker. Instead of standing his ground, Xander pressed on ahead, his arms still outstretched so that they smashed into the front of the man's head. He gripped the sides of his face and clawed at the skin. Despite the fact that chunks of the flesh in his face were being torn away, the man gave no outward reaction, no screams nor cries of distress, instead raining blow after blow into Xander's face.

 _Crack!_

Xander was fairly certain that his nose was broken. As the blood started to flow down towards his mouth, he manipulated his thumbs so that they were in front of the man's eyes. Forcing out the revulsion of what he was about to do, he stabbed forward with both thumbs and drove them into the other man's eyes.

 _Now_ he screamed, his hands reaching for his mutilated eye sockets. Howling with a combination of agony and rage, he leant forward and attempted to bite at his face but instead Xander reached for both the man's chin and the back of his head and brutally twisted, breaking his neck.

Everybody was now dead.

Supernaturally psychotic child abductors or not, he, Alexander Lavelle Harris had just killed twelve people. Later on that would hit him hard but right now he still had a job to do. He limped towards the end of the hallway. "Hello?" he managed to croak.

" _Who's there?_ " cried out a voice behind one of the closed doors, " _Stay away!_ "

"It's okay," he mumbled as he opened the door to reveal the eight year old Rebecca Cooper who immediately screamed upon seeing him. "No, no, no, it's okay," he said, ripping off his mask which had frightened her. "It's just a mask," he said, holding it up in front of her. "Your name is Rebecca, right?" he asked. She nodded.

"Are you a pirate?" she asked suddenly.

"What?"

"Are you a pirate?" she asked again, "You have an eyepatch." Despite the pain in his face, chest and pretty much every other part of him, Xander laughed.

"Yes, I am," he answered, "I'm actually part of Captain Feathersword's crew. You know about Captain Feathersword?"

"Of course I do," she replied seriously, "I'm going to be ten in December."

"Ten in December?" he echoed, "Wow, you're practically a grown up. Well, your Dad called Captain Feathersword to help find you. He and the rest of his friendly pirates are looking all over town for you but it looks like I found you first. Now, how about I take you back to your Daddy?"

"I can't," she said, shrinking back into the corner fearfully, "They said they'd hurt me if I go outside."

"That's okay," he said quickly, kneeling so he was at her eyelevel, "That's why I have this mask."

"The mask?"

"It's magic," he said, "As long as you're wearing it, they can't hurt you. Here, I'll help you put it on." He wrapped the black cloth around the top of her head. "Can you see anything?"

"No."

"That's how you know it's working," he said, deliberately covering her eyes so she would be spared the sight of the carnage outside, the single eyehole buried in the folds.

"Then how did you get up here if you couldn't see?" she asked as he guided her out of the room.

"It's a special pirate trick," he said, "Captain Feathersword taught it to me after I saved Henry the Octopus."

 **~o~O~o~**

 **I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please remember to review. Feedback is very helpful.**


End file.
